My Stubborn Cute Future Lover
by Linnay
Summary: Oneshot. AU. SLASH. Harry, a young graphic designer, becomes interested with a silent and troubled man.


**Disclaimers: **I do not own any of the characters from either universe. They all belong to J.K. Rowling and Studio Sunrise. OC's all mine though.

**Summary: **Harry, a young graphic designer, becomes interested with a silent and troubled man.

**Pairings: **Harry/Wufei.

**Warnings: AU**, light **m****ale on male** action, Harry **POV**, **Stalker** Harry(In a good way! And he only does it to Wufei anyway XP). The third oneshot in my (newly baptized) Office Series – Life's Designs. This has **not** been read by a **beta**.

**Author's note: **I dedicate this to Deb. We realized that we're almost the same age, her being a month or so older than me. This is my belated B-day gift to her. It was meant to be a surprise and I've kept silent about it to her. X3 Hope you like it Sweetie~!

My Stubborn (Cute) Future Lover

~*~

"Writing is a solitary occupation. Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer. He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking."

Jessamyn West, American writer (1902-1984)

~*~

There he was again.

Standing between the shelves in the back of the library; reading that same book like all those times before, scowling as his eyes thinned. He would then shut the book with a harsh huff and unceremoniously stuff the book back into its place in the shelf. Send the book no second glance and stomp away, out of the library to not return for at least a week.

Every week I will observe this moment repeat itself; the feeling of déjà vu strong in my mind, and my eyes following his every move from the point of his arrival to his hasty departure. I don't know why I've taken up to watching him every single time and it's not like I purposefully sit and wait for him. The city library is large enough for two people to frequently visit without ever stumble upon each other, so what are the odds of me noticing him?

He's a complete stranger and there's nothing about him that stands out from the ordinary except from his clear heritage. He's Chinese and that's the only thing I really know about him. Oh, and that he for some reason really dislikes that particular book, but why is it he continues to come and read from it if he always becomes that annoyed with it?

More than anything he has me confused and utterly intrigued. I've accumulated my fair share of theories as to what he does in his regular life. Everything from a business man to a truck driver, but all I can do is to keep guessing. I've never felt the urge to really grab a hold of him and find things out about him. I've only seen this occurrence as a small pastime as I study the reference and art books.

That is, not until now.

I find myself eyeing him again above the edge of the book I'm holding, careful not to let him notice I'm observing him but he's too wrapped up in that book again to actually notice he has an audience. He reads another passage and those finely thinned eyebrows draws closer, mouth tightening and body growing tense. There's the first twitch of his fingers, the second and then the fiery look in his eyes as he scowls. The book claps shut and its shoved back into the shelf. As he turns around and starts walking away I find myself abandoning the art book in my hand and following him. Trailing behind him I keep a secure distance between us as he weaves through the many shelves and then we're outside the Library on the flight of stone steps.

A gust of wind ruffles his coat and he pulls it closer to himself straightening the collar for protection from the chill. I tell myself continuously that what I'm doing is stupid and ridiculous. Since when did I take up the hobby of stalking people? Nevertheless I trudge on and follow him to a block of houses mere streets away from the library. This is where it ends. I stop myself by a post box and feints reading the pickup hours on the plate while I keep the man in the corner of my eye.

The door closes behind him and after standing there for another fifteen minutes I go back the way I came. I do not go home. Before that I return to the library and the shelf with the infamous book. I stand there staring at the back, reading the title.

'_One time in fall.' _

I reach for it, turning it around in my hand and my fingertips lands on the cover. The book's design piques my curiosity. It's not elaborate, but quite simplistic and has a single lone brown and orange leaf dancing in the wind on the front. Surprising myself for the second time that day; I do not return it to its place but bring it with me to the check out disk.

Before the end of that evening I will have already read more than three chapters and would be in the middle of the fourth before sleepiness overcame me. I still remember my last thought being, 'what's so wrong with this book?'

~*~

The work at the agency became hectic the next day and I could sense the usual pressure from finalizing the last touches to my design. My colleagues and boss had been on my case since last Tuesday, probably trying to fix my bad habit of always turning in my work at the last minute. Sorry to say there was nothing I could do about that. But it might also have been that I didn't bother with it. For me it was the same whether it got turned in on the day of the deadline or a week earlier.

I saw the man at the library on the next Thursday again. I'd been waiting for this particular moment and for him to find the book gone. What would his reactions be? Would he look for it or ask about it?

He did neither. He spared the empty slot a short glance and instead for the scowl I was almost expecting to see, I was stunned to see a troubled look enter his features. It struck me as oddly…cute. I was well aware that this man had to be a couple years my senior, at the least, in his late twenties or early thirties. That didn't stop my mind from thinking the expression cute however.

I watched him turn back around and again I rose to follow. He took a right outside the library this time, so he wasn't going home, and he later stepped into a coffee shop. I waited outside for five minutes before going in and spotted him in the farthest corner, sitting alone with a cup of coffee in front of him. Ordering a mint tea I took a seat in the other end of the shop but still in view point of the man. I sipped my tea, throwing inconspicuous glances every now and then in his direction. He rarely drank from his coffee. Actually it seemed like he wasn't that fond of the beverage. If that was the case then why would he order it? More questions popped into my head. What was he doing here on a work day? Did he have a part-time job or something? It didn't matter if I did my work at home or at the office, as long as I got it done. But what sort of job could he have, because he had to have one to support himself somehow.

Over an hour I spent in the coffee shop, not wanting to leave before he did. He'd taken to staring out at the pedestrians outside the window from his position in the back and I took this opportunity to more closely observe the man's outer appearance. This was a first for me to put down real effort in memorizing how another person looked like. How their face was structured and the shape of the eyes, for example. I had a good view of his profile, strong and accentuated by surprisingly impeccable skin for someone that didn't seem to care that much for their outward appearance. His, nearly midnight, black hair he'd pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of the neck. Only a few separate and short strands whispered softly against his temples.

I jerked when he finally stood up, leaving his drink unfinished. I stayed back, playing with my empty cup, all the while contemplating what little I knew about the man. I now knew two things he disliked. The book I had borrowed and coffee. I wanted to learn more of his dislikes. I wanted to learn of what things he actually liked. What things would make a smile replace that troubled expression?

I finished the book's last chapter Sunday night. I'd spent my whole weekend reading it and I, never one for reading books to begin with, surprised myself by thoroughly enjoying it. The male protagonist had a strong character and confidence that beaconed to me. Somehow he seemed to portray many things pertaining to myself and how the character got through his struggles had me encouraged. I have been stressed lately. But this book made me brighter and filled with newfound energy.

So how could this book be so disliked by him?

~*~

Though I've finished reading it, I didn't return it straight away, but opted for keeping it to the end of my allotted time and spend my evenings flicking through the pages and rereading certain paragraphs.

I was back at the library, reading a new art book and scribbling notes in my college block when he showed up again. My eyes instantly went to him and my hand stilled. Attention fully focused on the man I saw him walk slowly up to the spot before the shelf. It was empty. Of course, since I still had the book and hadn't returned it yet though today was my last day. I pressed the pen against my bottom lip, mouth slightly opened, while I silently observed him.

He frowned and his hand tugged absentmindedly on his shirt.

Acting without a second thought; I reached down to pull the book out of my bag and held it up, cover to the front, beside my head.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

My sudden spoken question startled him and he turned apprehensive eyes towards me, first taking in the light crooked smile I had on and then the book in my hand. His eyes widened in recognition and for a second I thought he was about to snag it right out of my hand before he averted his eyes.

"It is not, unfortunately." He said, his voice tight and unusual deep for being Asian.

"So it's not the same book you've coming to read every week?" I asked, knowing full well it was.

I do realize it might not have been the smartest thing to say. It revealed that I'd actually been watching him these last few weeks but I was more concerned with seeing his reaction than to care about my newfound stalker tendencies being revealed to the source of said tendencies.

His minutely shocked face sent tingles down my spine. My crooked smile grew more crooked and both I and he were aware of my knowledge. Still he schooled his features into a neutral look and denied it in the next.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must have mistaken me for another."

He swiveled on his feet and walked briskly away.

"Hey!" I called after him but was ignored.

Abandoning the art books behind me I grabbed my bag and rushed after him, book still clutched in my hand. Easily catching up with him I matched his pace and leaned slightly towards him.

"Hey." I repeated but was yet again ignored.

I sighed and opted to just keep myself close to his form, despite his resolute determination to disregard my very existence. I acted nonchalant to the strange looks the pair of us was receiving from a few other visitors. He seemed perfectly fine with treating them, and me for the moment, like air. I'd have to do something about that by the way.

He appeared to do his best in paying my presence no heed but having me still following him for five minutes and a whole block down was showing signs in his body language. I can't say if it was him or me being stubborn, but I found the situation too interesting and amusing to just let him slip away before extricating more information out of the man.

Chances were he weren't going to visit the library again in the immediate future and I had to make the best of this opportunity I had at hand. Now how to get him to talk to me.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter. But you can call me just Harry."

Silence.

"I'm a graphic designer. I study the art books at the library for almost every project I have." I tried again.

Still silence. I frowned lightly and scratched the back of my head in thought.

"I really liked the book. You've read it yourself right? Although I'm just assuming you did since-"

"Would you stop talking to me?" He cut me off, none too gently.

"Why?" I asked and could almost see the annoyance rolling off his shoulders.

"Because I don't know you, that's why."

"I just said my name was Harry."

"Let me clarify. I don't _want_ to know you."

"Why not?"

"'Why not?' You're a complete stranger and I have no interest whatsoever in knowing someone like you who stalks other people."

"I don't stalk people." I argued.

He sent me a highly doubtful look.

"I don't." I continued. "Except for you that is." I amended.

His steps faltered.

"Except for me? What are you saying, that you only stalk me?"

I nodded.

"Well, yes. It's not like I intended to though. More like it just ended up that way." I tried to explain but the words only seemed to make him even more annoyed.

"Just stay away from me from now on."

"What? Why?"

I didn't want to let go of him. Not just yet. I still needed to sate this curiosity of mine or my mind would continue to be filled of questions surrounding him.

"I repeat, stay away from me or I'll call the police."

He was angry now.

"Why does it have to end up that way?" I asked earnestly.

"I suggest you go seek help for that behavior of yours." He said, bypassing my question.

"I'd rather not."

I admit I was acting foolish. In retrospect I can see how, in fact, creepy it was for him to have a perfect stranger admit to him that they'd been stalking him. Usually people would've made a run for it long before this. He had more patience than he made himself out to have.

"It's not healthy."

"But you're interesting." I confessed and had him falter in his steps once more.

"I'm…interesting?"He said slowly and most of the anger had been exchanged for confusion.

"And cute." I added as in afterthought.

That I had not planned to let slip and I would have regretted it had he not showed me that expression. His face, instead of being plain angry all over again for being called cute (most men would in normal cases), adopted a shade of red that I realized was actually a blush inadvertently caused by my comment and not just a result from the anger.

I liked it. I was drawn to that flaming face and fiery black eyes that pierced into mine.

"I won't stand for this! Above all else being insulted in broad daylight in the streets by someone I've never met before in my life. You will take those words back!"

"No."

So what if I was acting like a child?

He was bristling. I was pretty sure he would have punched me if he wasn't trying so hard to compose himself from doing just that. It was mean, for me to insist on behaving in this way, but it delighted me so to tease him and draw all those faces and reactions out of him.

I watched him clench and unclench his hands, fascinated by all the different shades of anger replacing the one before. He flicked his head towards me, eyeing me for a brief second, before doing a complete turnaround and making a run for it.

Stunned by the sudden movement it took me a few seconds to react. After that however I did not hesitate and broke into a run, racing after him back down the street we came. Running past the library I spotted the back of his head, black hair waving in the wind, while I avoided colliding with the few groups of people walking along the street.

He was on his feet, I had to give it to him, he wasn't in bad condition but, one the other hand, neither was I. I was closing in on him, slowly but surely, and he must have realized this as well. He threw me a look over his shoulders, eyes scowling, trying to deter me but it only suffused to encourage me to up my pace and try harder in catching up with him.

The familiarity of the neighborhood gave me the clue as to where he was headed and sure enough, the building to his flat came soon into view. His hand dove into his coat pocket and fished out a keychain. His feet jumped the steps up to the front door and the keys jingled in his hand as he attempted to find the correct one.

I pushed myself even harder, reaching the steps just as he inserted the key and had the door opened. My forward motion had us both shoved into the hall inside, the keys falling from his hands to stone floor. Securely inside I bent over hands on my knees and catching my breath.

Absentmindedly I thought about what I was supposed to do now that I've forced myself inside. If not stalking then surely forcing your way into another one's home had to cause for calling the police. No idea leaving now, I'd given him my name and occupation. I was well known enough in my circles for people to recognize my name.

I brought my eyes up to see him standing cautiously by a hat rack. He was wary, rightfully so, and were slowly backing away from me. There was a mix of that wariness and slight fear.

"Sorry." I said, frowning to myself.

Why I was apologizing now? I couldn't be sure but I suddenly had the desire of wiping that fearful look off his face. I didn't want him scared and shying away from me. Anger was one thing but fear was an emotion altogether that I never wanted to see on his face.

I rubbed my hands against the fabric of my jeans.

"Sorry." I repeated. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"What games are you playing? Do you think I'll be fooled by a simple change of attitude?"

"It's true!"

This was no good. I was getting agitated. But why? When had my interest for this man developed into concern?

"Lie all you want. Get out of my home. I will call the police if you don't."

His hand was in his pocket. Did he have a cell phone in there?

I had to do something. I'd come too far to back down now at the first sign of my own falling confidence.

"I'll leave." I said. "Just listen to what I have to say first."

The words seemed to calm him slightly, but he kept his hand in his coat pocket.

"I mean you no harm" I ignored the disbelieving scoff. "It's just that, ever since I first saw you in the library, reading that book with that troubled expression, I couldn't get you out of my mind. Why would you scowl like that? What was the cause of that sad look? "

He appeared confused and angry again at my words. There was nothing I could do about that. I've spoken my mind and kept truthful. I could do no more than that.

"That's…" He started but faltered, thinking of my words. "Do you always worry about other people than yourself?"

I was startled by the question. I'd expected him to tell me to leave again now that I've told him. I felt happy that he didn't in fact.

"No. I don't."

"Then, why me?"

"I honestly don't know. You interested me, made me want to learn more about you. I grew concerned about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Ugh…"

He closed his eyes, hand brought up to cradle his temple. I stood there, silent for a moment before my curiosity rose once more.

"What is your name?"

His eyes opened, black depths staring me down for the longest of times and my own meeting his unwavering.

"Wufei. Wufei Chang."

"Wufei." I repeated, testing the name and pronunciation on my tongue.

I'd been right about him being Chinese then. I smiled.

He raised an eyebrow in response. The tense air from before had diminished but he was still acting cautious.

"Will you leave now?"

"One last thing?" I asked, not wanting to part with him just yet.

He seemed to think about it for a minute, determining whether he should oblige my request or not.

"Just one." He said.

I took a step toward him.

"Can I touch your hair?"

He frowned and stared at me, wariness building in his posture again.

"No."

"Please." I insisted.

He bit his lip.

"I will have you leave after this." He said and it was all the approval I needed.

I closed the distance between us, carefully raising a hand and feeling the velvety strands beneath my fingertips. He seemed awfully uncomfortable with my closeness, but he did not push me away. I traced my fingers along the hair, reaching the ends and repeating the movement. I did so a few times before his annoyed voice brought me out of my reverie.

"Are you quite done yet?"

I stilled my hand.

"Why would you want to touch my hair anyway?"He continued.

"It's beautiful." I said.

My hand was instantly slapped away.

"That's enough. Now leave."

I didn't move away from my position. My eyes found his upset ones and my breath stilled with the sheer intensity in them.

I found myself unable to stop my next actions, as I bent forward and captured his lips with mine. I noticed his body instantly freezing in shock and yet I did not pull away. I lingered, our eyes caught in each other, until I slid my tongue across his lower lip and gave it a light nip with my teeth.

Roused from his initial shock he used his hands to push me away, staggering back and shielding his lips with an arm.

"What did you just do?"

There was pure disbelief in his voice, his eyes as wide as they could get.

"I don't know. I couldn't help myself."

"Out!" He yelled, recovering from his shock.

"I'm sorry." I tried but he would have none of it.

"I said get out!"

I fumbled with my hands, backing away and finally turning around and walking out into the shill air outside. The door slammed shut behind me and my eyes landed on it with sorrow.

I probably would never see him again.

Having not much else to do, I leave the house behind me and walk home.

I stay at home for the next couple of days, never going out once. I still have the book. It lays in the bottom of my bag and it's way past its due date. I will have to pay a fine for the delay.

Eventually my quickly diminishing supply of food forces me to venture outside. I decide to first return the book. I stop outside the library, hesitating at first before I walk up the stairs into the building. There are less visitors today, being in the middle of the week, and I'm met with a tense looking old lady sitting behind the desk. She eyes me critically over the brim of her glasses, taking in my ragged appearance and unkempt hair.

"Yes?"

"I would like to return a book." I say just as I begin to rummage around in my bag for it.

I remove it and hold it out, but stop halfway. My eyes focuses on the book's cover and the name written there as the author.

'_Wufei Chang.'_

My heart starts beating wildly for some reason and it continues to do so even as she takes the book out of my hand. She scans it, reading something off of her computer and turns back to me.

"This is delayed. You will have to pay a 2£ fee."

"Yes, of course." I say distractedly, fishing out my wallet and handing over two coins.

My mind races with my newfound knowledge. It explains so many things and opens up so many new questions.

"Can I have that book back?" I ask.

She looks surprised at my request.

"You would like to borrow this again?" She asks for clarification.

"Yes, yes please." I reply hurriedly.

"There was a gentleman here earlier asking for this book. So I'm afraid I can't let you borrow it again straight away. We must let other people have a chance first."

"A gentleman?" I ask, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Yes. I do believe he hasn't left yet. If you want to borrow it again I propose you ask him first if he would like to do so. Chinese I believe he was. I saw him walk towar-"

I don't stay around long enough to hear the last things she has to say. I rush off, hearing her calling out not to run in the library behind me, and searches for a midnight black eyes and hair.

I come to a stop between two shelves. He's sitting in the seat I always use when researching, looking out at the clouded sky. I stand there not knowing what to do. What should I do? There's no way he will want to see me again. I should turn around right now and go back. Forget about the book and forget about him.

But I can't.

Instead my legs moves on their own and I'm standing next to him. He notices my presence and his head turns, his surprised eyes meeting mine. He doesn't yell at me like I expect him to do, nor does his face change into one of anger.

He just stares at me, eyes confused and somewhat lost.

"I, I liked the book." I say. "You wrote it?" I ask then, feeling nervous about his response.

He frowns, that same troubled expression I've seen so many times before entering his features, but does not say anything.

I fidget. Swallow reflexively a few times.

"Why don't you like it?" I finally ask.

"I don't…" He starts but doesn't finish.

His brow furrows.

"Why did you do that?" He asks me instead.

My mind is instantly reminded by our last meeting days ago and if it's possible my heart is beating even louder now. I'm astonished he can't hear it in fact.

"I don't know what to say."

"Did you mean it?"

Now it's my time to be confused. What did I mean by it? I wasn't joking, I know that, but I'm not sure what incentive made me act the way I did. It could have been the feel of his hair, the force in his eyes, or many other things that lead up to it.

"I just wanted to do it."

"I see." He says.

The tone of his voice tells me he's not satisfied with my answer. So I try again.

"I care about you."

He looks doubtful.

"Truly, I do. I can't say what made me do what I did, just that it…felt right." I say.

That's it. The words feel right and I'm convinced of the rightfulness in them. If only I can convince him of the same.

"You're strange." He says. There's a silent contemplation to his words.

He glances at me before he directs his eyes back to the clouded sky.

"Did you really like it?"

For a second I'm confused as to what he's asking about before it's made clear to me.

"Yes." I simply say.

He sits there, silently watching.

Then, something in his face changes and my breath is caught in my throat. I'm unable to take my eyes off of him as I see him give the smallest of smiles.

**AN: **Hope you guys liked it! There's a high chance of me writing a sequel to this but I'll have to think some things through before doing so. R&R! Reviews warm's my lil' author's soul! /Lin


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